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Warning for my sister, stop reading. I think there’s something on the stove that needs your attention. Or maybe you left the water upstairs running, you should probably go check it out. By the way, are you going to mom’s house for dinner tomorrow night? What do you think she’ll make?

Stop reading now, you can go away.

At a party last Saturday, surrounded by friends, one of them announced, “Catherinette has great tits.”

Having boobs is a glorious thing. At a d cup mine fit my frame. Yes there are times when my button down shirts start to gape. Or when I suddenly get uniboob at the gym and I go from having 2 to just one giant one in the middle. They’re heavy sometimes, and they can be uncomfortable during the summer. But for the most part they are a glorious sight to behold. If they’re out on display, people will look. Sometimes it’s subtle, sometimes not so much.

This afternoon I get the joy and pleasure of having my boobs smashed like tiny pancakes. It’s mammogram time. I’m excited about it. No I’m not. As a female with boobs, though, it’s my duty to go and get them checked out. Gotta save first base and keep motorboating alive. This time around, however, it’s gonna get real awkward with the technician. You see, they’re not in their typical state.

Tuesday night, #4 couldn’t get enough of them. On our first date I had worn a pretty conservative top which accentuated them, but didn’t show any cleavage. I caught him sneaking some glances, and called him out on text messages later on. Over the course of our text exchanges he mentioned how excited he was to get a hold of them – so to speak. Obviously we were both aware of what was gonna go down on Tuesday, so I wore something low cut so he could see what he was going to get himself into later that night. Once we were back at my house he manhandled them like no one’s business. For 3 plus hours. After he left they were so sore it hurt to wear a shirt, and laying on my stomach was close to impossible. The next day as I was inspecting them in the mirror I noticed there were marks all over them. A hicky here. A welt there. A hole lot of redness. Was that a bite mark? 3 days later and they’re still sore and some of the marks he left are still visible.

I’m super stoked to take my top off and then have to explain to the technician that, no, they typically don’t have those marks. And that, no, that welt on the bottom of the left one isn’t usually there. And also, no, they’re not usually bruised it’s just a hicky on my god damned right one.

In hindsight perhaps I should have scheduled the appointment out a bit further…

On Tuesday I wrote about my new crush, Shorty, that started in my department. In the last three days, it’s come to my attention that he totally wants me. Take the following as evidence of his desire to get with me:

He didn’t stare down my shirt. This is a major accomplishment as I wore an EXTREMELY low cut blouse yesterday and made sure to wear a red push up bra underneath. He didn’t look, not once. Now, I know that some of you are probably thinking that he’s gay or just not interested, but you’re wrong. His not looking at my smoking rack clearly indicates that he was exercising extreme control and that he had to talk himself out of looking.

He left his computer unlocked every single time he walked away from his desk. I have this nasty little habit of messing with peoples’ computers if they don’t lock them when they walk them away. This could include flipping the screen upside down (ctrl, alt, and down arrow at the same time), changing the background, adding a brand new screen saver, or sending phony appointments. He’s well aware of this as I flipped his screen at least 10 times on Monday, and yet, he still “forgets” to lock it. This is an indicator that he likes that he’ll have to come back and “scold” me when he returns to his desk. As a matter of fact, yesterday when he wandered away from his desk, he told me all about how he’d been thinking about me (or really what I would have done to his computer) while he was in his meeting. He totally wants me.

Shorty is very much into music. He studied music in college, plays all sorts of instruments, mixes his own music and blah, blah, blah. I had been bombarding him with questions on Tuesday, so Wednesday he brought in a CD with some samples of his music. He wrote the lyrics to all the songs and sings 2 of them. Track 2 is dirty-to say the list. Let’s take a looky loo at some of the lyrics: I never met her/she’s the girl of my dreams/when she looked at me yeah/I wanted to cream/I want to touch you/just want to feel you/from the inside out/don’t want to hurt you baby/but I will if you want me to/I’ll do what you want me to do. I blushed when I heard the lyrics. Up to that point, I just thought that he was a nice young man. He seriously looks like someone who could just up and join the priesthood (and I don’t mean that he looks like a child molester). Shorty just seems to have an innocence about him. In the midst of listening to the song, he mentioned how it was more risqué than the other ones. I asked him who the inspiration for the song was, and he said lots of women. Clearly, he didn’t want me to feel uncomfortable by revealing that I was the inspiration.

Conclusion: He totally wants me. Furthermore, Shorty will now be known as Lit’l Smokey because he’s tiny and hot.